Beneath the Sunless Sky

Chapter Twenty-Seven

—The Dragonlands, Kingdom of Avarra, Andavaran—

This was, perhaps, the stupidest thing he had witnessed in his rather long life. The knights of Avarra were supposed to be the best in the realm. There were tales told far and wide of their bravery, songs sung of the impossible feats they could achieve through their strength of arms. Yet, here they were, being ripped apart in front of his eyes, each and every knight reduced to a screaming mess, pissing their pants, and begging for mercy from creatures that didn't understand. It was so sad he almost felt compelled to help.

Almost.

But, in the end, his hands were tied, weren't they? He was still masquerading as the queen of Avarra, who could wield a sword certainly, but mastering dark magic? No, that was outside of her abilities. So, what else could he do but sigh and watch as each and every one of the knights met a miserable end. When the last one was dead, he pulled his hand away from his face, where it had been covering his mouth in utter disbelief and lowered his arms. The beast turned toward him, ready for another small snack to devour.

A Virajac. Just like the one that had feasted on Kiverryn. Yet, this one was not an ancient harbinger of death like Tal'Dovah. This one was just a baby. He could sense it in its blood. Tal'Dovah's progeny. How many did she have scattered across the worlds, he idly wondered?

One less, as it turned out.

The beast lunged and the King of Bones caught it easily enough with his magic, sighing in utter boredom as he snapped his fingers and the creature writhed in terrible agony before bursting apart in a dramatic shower of blood and guts that should have lifted his spirits. But, after that pathetic display of knights of supposed renown, he barely batted an eye as he lowered the shield that had kept the mess from touching him. One last glance around the now silent battlefield confirmed what he already knew. Every knight was dead. He dispelled the glamour.

It was sufficient, he begrudgingly admitted. His goal was not far ahead, and the way seemed relatively clear from what he could sense. He could not afford another run-in with something that wanted to eat him. His aether was stretched so thin as it was it was liable to break at any moment. If the spell faltered, even for a moment, he would have to start back from scratch. The ingredients alone were very difficult to procure, even with a veritable army of minions at his beck and call. It would take weeks, perhaps months, and then his carefully laid plans in Avarra would be forfeit. The prince wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he couldn't ignore his mother's absence for that long without becoming suspicious. He needed Avarra for a little while longer.

So, he made his way forward carefully as though he was mortal. The thought was a disgusting one but necessary if he was to keep his wits about him. Indeed, the knights had cut through the worst of it. He encountered nothing for the remainder of his trip.

It was an utterly remote area of the Dragonlands he sought. Located in the heart of the ancient lands, he doubted any mortals had ever set foot this deep into a realm ruled by wild dragons and other beasts. It was hardly a surprise that the Creator had chosen such a dramatic landscape to hide something of this importance, but it was exceedingly tedious to trek this far into wilds lands that housed such untamed aether. It was taxing enough to maintain his projection but added to the already strenuous effort was an onslaught of raw magic that was oppressive in its crashing waves. Like trying to run on a humid day, it felt as though he was trying to breathe in deep water.

It made him angry.

Aether should have no effect on him. His powers were vast, and he had lived bathed in aether more potent than this every day once. But that had been a long time ago, and his prison in Medyulana had been warded in such a way as to starve the land of aether. It had been too long since he had been exposed to such magic.